The Chase
by FrostPheyonix
Summary: Dirk felt that Caliborn was being controlling. After he left, he knew he was when he threatened him to come back. When Dirk refused, well this story happened. Rated M for Extreme violence, language, and other bad things. My sucky attempt at a horror.


**A Dirk and Caliborn story. Caliborn refuses to let Dirk get away and does everything in his power to pull him back. (Character death, torture, violence, just bad overall. Please do NOT read if you cannot handle it.)**

**A/N: Well, decided to try this. I don't know why, but I have a feeling this story is going to be bad. .n.**

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The blond held his sword at his side. The mime stared at him right back, stitched mouth quirking up in a hideous smile. It made Dirk uneasy to have to be there, but it wasn't his choice. A voice sounded in his head.

"You ready to fight, human? I've never culled one of your blood yet."

"You better not think it's going to be an easy fight."

"Easy? I look forward to what little struggle you'll put up, fly."

"Then keep looking forward." Dirk flash-stepped behind the mime, slicing at his back. Somehow the mime spun and blocked the katana with a club.

"You really think you'll get me with something like that? Foolish." He darted at him with clubs swinging. Dirk felt one collide painfully with his shoulder as he flew back and to the side, trying to circle his enemy. Seeing a slight opening, he darted in, only skimming the curly-haired troll's side. "That tickled. You using a thumbtack?" Dirk let out a snarl as the blade rang out from him blocking one of the heavy clubs.

"You wish it was." He swung it upwards, leaving a shallow line on the mime's front. The indigo's eyes glowed and the smile turned into a frown.

"And you'll wish you never did that." The mime returned the clubs to his strife deck, drawing something more menacing. They were spiked steel clubs, covered in a multitude of colors. Dirk felt his stomach flip. Knowing the troll, all of the colors were blood of those he'd killed. Dirk darted to the side and felt a whoosh of air pass inches away from his head. A quick glance told him he was in trouble.

The other had ripped open their mouth in a fanged grin, indigo blood dripping from the torn stitches. One club lay in a small crater in the ground, the other slung over his shoulder as if it was a golf club or baseball bat. Dirk swallowed, looking for any way to get leverage. Spotting a small space, he darted for it. Seeing his goal, the mime cut him off, moving almost faster than him. Was it even possible with the weight of those clubs? Dirk didn't take a second to find out, springing back and finding a wall behind him. The monster of a being had trapped him against a wall and he hadn't even noticed.

The skeleton man swung both clubs, one for Dirk's head and the other for his leg. Dirk jerked to the side fast enough to save his brains but his leg let out a sickening crunch as the weight collided with it. He let out a small cry, springing forward and rolling, nauseous from the wound. He took a second to glance down at it. About mid-calf there was a good sized mark in his leg, bleeding quite badly. The troll advanced slowly, not concerned that his prey would run any longer. Dirk stood, nearly falling in the process as his wounded leg would not hold him. The mime sprung at him and Dirk threw himself into the air, spinning and bringing the blade down the middle of his attacker's skull. Blood welled up slowly around the blade as Dirk landed heavily, hands on the ground to keep himself able to escape.

There was no need. The mime fell to his knees, indigo running from his head. Dirk got to his good foot and hobbled over to him, yanking the blade from his head, allowing a spurt of indigo to splatter across his face. He glared down at the dying one and swung his blade, leaving the decapitated head to roll on the ground as the corpse slumped forward. Dirk wiped his blade on the mime's back before returning his sword to the strife deck. He picked up one of the heavy clubs and began limping away from the scene of the fight, using it as a crutch.


End file.
